Chapter 37 — One Shout Startles Awake the Long-Deafened Soul
The Herdsman of the Wasteland · Page 2 of 3
The old monk said to the little monk Mingxing, "Today your master will take back the Great Thunderclap Temple's divine powers from this betrayer of the temple. If you win, it shall be your merit."
Mingxing assented and strode toward the platform.
On the platform, the young man contending with Shen Mu was a master of the sword who followed the path of Senior Brother Qu of the Five Masters of the Surging River. His precious sword never left his body by more than three feet. Unlike Senior Brother Qu, his sword was not large; it was more like a dagger, eight inches long — small, and all the more vicious for it!
This little sword would thrust out from outlandish places — from under his armpit, from between his legs — and would even slip inside his clothes, darting out from his sleeve when Shen Mu traded palm force with him!
To drive a flying sword with qi, to control the sword with such high skill — he was not much inferior to Qianxun, a disciple of the Li River, and far surpassed Senior Brother Qu.
What was more, this man had actually attained great skill in combat techniques as well. His palm method was deep and profound, its momentum like a towering mountain; when the force at his palm burst forth, mountain patterns would appear in the center of his palm.
But by now the outcome on the platform was already decided. Shen Mu was mighty in strength and fierce in attack, swift in his footwork; the young man had suffered badly the very moment they traded their first palms — Shen Mu's vigorous vital essence crushed his outright!
What Shen Mu wielded was the Nine Dragons Riding Wind and Thunder; though only three of the nine layers of force had burst forth, it had already injured the young man's inner organs. Exquisite though his swordsmanship was, his defeat was settled.
Shen Mu's footsteps ran in confusion, like a thousand serpents writhing through the grass, now east, now west, now forward, now back, so that the young man could not tell from where his attacks came. The next moment, pain struck his back, and a palm from Shen Mu sent him flying.
The young man landed, stared blankly for a moment, then bowed to Shen Mu on the platform and thanked him. "Many thanks, little brother, for staying your hand."
That palm just now, though it had landed on his back with great force, had not been fierce and hard, and had not injured his heart or lungs; otherwise, with Shen Mu's strength, he could absolutely have smashed his five viscera and six bowels to powder!
"Does my junior brother need rest?" Mingxing had been standing quietly there waiting all along, and only when Shen Mu had defeated the young man did he speak.
Shen Mu's gaze fell upon him. This monk was young, dressed in white monk's robes unstained by a speck of dust; even the shoes on his feet were white, and he himself was fair and pure. Though his head was shaved, he still looked quite handsome, making one feel goodwill toward him without knowing why.
He was about to answer that there was no need, when Granny Zhu's voice suddenly came. "Rest — you must rest!"
Shen Mu did not understand her meaning, but he did as Granny Zhu said, sat down to rest, and regulated his breath. His Mystic Body Three Elixirs Art was suited to cultivation while running; though he had already fought more than ten martial artists, his vital essence had not been depleted by much, and he remained at his peak, only somewhat weary in body.
Granny Zhu carried a cup of water up onto the platform and put it into Shen Mu's hand, saying in a low voice, "Mu'er, no matter what means you use, this time you must win — you absolutely must not lose! Your Grandpa Ma has taken a bet with that old bald thief and staked his own life on it!"
Shen Mu's heart jumped. He hurriedly looked toward Old Man Ma, whose face was calm; his voice came over. "Mu'er, the peerless Overlord Body can never lose! I believe in you."